Mairi had fallen asleep, draped across the foot of the bed.

Cal sat up quickly, touched his fingers against Mary’s neck and felt no pulse. She was gone. Emotion welled up deep within him for this woman who had always looked for the best in him. His eyes misted and he kissed her softly on the forehead. Now he truly was all alone, the last of the line.

He took a deep breath to compose himself, laid her bony hand on the bed and gently shook Mairi. She woke with a start.

‘She’s gone,’ said Cal gently, failing to hold back the tears.

5

MAIRI TOOK OVER, phoning the doctor, who arrived promptly and confirmed what they already knew. Cal and Mairi hovered uncertainly behind him as he checked the body.

‘Yes, I’m afraid there’s no doubt,’ he pronounced with a sigh.

Cal had witnessed death before, looked upon both his mother and father after they died. What made that difference between the living body and the dead shell? The heart stopped beating and the lungs stopped inflating – was that all it took for somebody to cease to be, or did something else leave the body, what religious folk speak of as the soul?

Generally Cal tried not to dwell on such great questions, but here, with death before him again, they were brought into sharp focus. Was Aunt Mary’s spirit already in Paradise with those who had gone before, or was all that she ever was now lying there, growing cold in front of him? Was faith in an afterlife simply protection from the awful prospect of nothingness?

The doctor knew Mairi and was taking details from her for the death certificate.

‘The time of death was an hour ago?’

‘Well that’s when we noticed.’ Mairi looked over to Cal and brought him up from the depths of his thoughts.

‘It may have been a couple of minutes before, I could see she was breathing up until then.’

‘You must be Mary’s nephew?’ said the doctor.

Cal nodded.

‘I’m very sorry. You must be the next of kin – as far as I’m aware, Mary has no other family.’

‘No. I’m it. The last of the line.’ Cal’s voice caught on that familiar phrase.

‘It was peaceful at least.’

Cal nodded again.

‘It’s up to yourself what we do now. I can arrange for the undertaker to take the body away. Or he could dress the remains and leave them here until the funeral. Some of the older folk prefer to do that.’

Cal looked to Mairi.

‘It’s up to you, whatever you want to do,’ she said.

‘I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to leave her here on her own and frankly I’m not comfortable with a dead body in the house.’

‘I could stay if you want,’ she volunteered.

‘That’s good of you, but you’ve done enough.’ Turning to the doctor he said, ‘If you could ask them to take her away, I think that would be best.’

After the doctor had gone, Cal and Mairi sat sombrely at the kitchen table.

‘Will you be staying?’ she asked.

‘I don’t think so. I’ll need to wait until the hotel opens, but I think I’ll get a room there. Just, well, you know…’ He let his explanation trail off.

‘It’s probably best for you. It’ll get busy.’

‘Oh yeah,’ Cal groaned, ‘There’s all that to go through.’

‘Folk just want to pay their respects.’

‘Or they want to come and look holy.’

Mairi looked taken aback.

‘I saw it when my parents died. All these church people taking over the house, having their interminable services. Friends and family were different, but I hardly knew any of these people. I didn’t need it, to be honest.’

‘It’s just the way things are done. It’s what Mary would want.’

‘I don’t know about that. She didn’t care much for all that holier than thou crap.’

‘Maybe not, but it’s what she’d expect,’ insisted Mairi. ‘It’s the way things are done here.’

Cal saw a feistiness in her that hadn’t been apparent before. They were both so tired, emotions were not so easily controlled.

‘You’re right, of course you are,’ he said consolingly.

Through the kitchen window the first light of morning filtered in. Cal walked to the door and stepped outside, immediately enjoying the coolness around him. The hills were emerging from blackness. The sun’s light diffracted into individual rays. A new dawn, a new day.